When sadness is greater than faith, there’s an overwhelming darkness that swallows you whole—a momentary weakness, or a lifetime of weakness, a moment nonetheless—a decision made in the midst of hopelessness—I get it, I’ve been there too. Limp, bent, stones in chest, but the kids, Robin!—-Sadness is some type of thing that feeds itself, like a parasite inside you, feeding off of anything you ever thought was yours, because, just because—and it gets bigger and it eats until its fatty, dark, coiled body fills you and you can no longer breath. —You can no longer breathe. —
Resuscitation is in the warm breath of your dear girl when she utters words— I love you, trying to piece your existence back together—you were real.
"And so it will be as if all the stars were laughing, when you look at the sky at night." — you are still here.
I once had this breed in my arms; that type of sadness is real. I once had this devil swing it’s sword in my home.